Another Day
by Wildeve of the Heath
Summary: Everyone wanted Ymir dead or for work, either way, as long as you pay her, she'll do it. Lived almost like a god back there, hell, I wonder if she misses that. PREQUEL TO BELOW THE SURFACE, MODERN!AU
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

Another Day

Everyone wanted Ymir dead or for work, either way, as long as you pay her, she'll do it. Lived almost like a god back there, hell, I wonder if she misses that.

A/N: Takes place seven years before "Below the Surface", I made a prequel...because I'm a masochist.

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><p>For years going as far back as anyone would know, Shiganshina was the Trost of humanity before the fall.<p>

Sitting at the crux of the country's Southern tip, it was a piss-water city that God had forsaken long ago. It was a lost cause. It was worthless. It was the dumping ground for society's undesirables, but to them, to those who are against the rights of humanity, it was considered home. And home it was.

At times, Ymir wished that she landed in some other country but when she found herself laying flat on her stomach, just near the edge of the metal platform, she found that there was no other place in the world like Shiganshina. She ruffled her hair under the shining sun, thanking whatever god existed that her hangover wasn't assaulting her heavily.

She cracked one eye open to have a nice view of the shit hole.

One of the entrances of her apartment was three floors high, the only access was a fire escape. She looked down at the alleyway to find it clear of bodies from last night, the cleaner may have dropped by earlier and gotten rid of them all. Well, one less sore sight for the noon. She stretched, yawned, and returned to the darkness that was her apartment.

Inside, Sasha was just barely waking up, her lithe body moving caused the numerous beer bottles covering her stomach to clatter to the floor, prompting her to groan and hold her head. "Nnngh...how much?"

Ymir grimaced and glanced over at the beaten coffee table to where she counted the hard liquor.

"Smirnoff, Jack Daniels, Bacardi," she absently listed off as she went to the fridge. She opened it to find some left over take-out, she reached in for it and opened the box. She sniffed it, found it still good, and took a fork from the sink to eat away at her breakfast. She swore she tasted something moldy...oh well, food was food.

Sasha was far from being accustomed to hangovers, after all, she went binge drinking with Ymir.

The night started out with rounds of shots, just shot after shot, each bragging the other could out-drink her opponent. Well, they both knew how that ended up.

"Is...is there a job today?" Sasha let out in a whimper.

"Nah, Armin didn't call us so there's nothing."

"Oh thank Jesus."

Ymir shook her head and smiled down at her food, then she grimaced. Was that...a fucking worm?

"Uh-uh-uh-uh...hurk!"

She rushed to the window and flung it open, she proceeded to throw out her food and even throw up.

She gagged and spluttered, making sure she removed every single fucking thing that she ate. Once she painted the side of her building a sick yellow, she retreated back into the apartment with her sleeve at her mouth.

"Ugh, fuck..."

"Oh, ya ate it, huh? Forgot, that thing's spoiled-"

"Goddamn it, Sasha, if you're gonna live with me, at least take responsibility on what's in our fridge. Fuck, it's like there's nothing to eat here!"

Sasha hummed as she slowly brought herself to sit up, the cascade of bottles came down from her lap. "Potatoes ne'er rot."

"Do you want me to throw you back to the red light district?" Ymir threatened.

It was only three years ago that Ymir had saved Sasha, last night was the anniversary for her freedom. Ymir glared at Sasha as she gave her a guilty look, she wondered why the teenager followed her around, regardless of her hectic life style. Then again, her life prior to Ymir's intervention wasn't any different, at least in the contents. Ymir rolled her eyes and sighed- of course she wouldn't take her back to that place.

"Who'd be your driver?" Sasha returned, she gave her a somber look. "I hate it when you joke."

In truth, Sasha had been taking her recovery well. She had accepted what had happened to her, what would happen to her later, and never argued against anything- she could have ran off to live a better life and yet here she was, with Ymir.

The only world she knew.

Ymir shrugged it off. Habits were hard to kick.

She threw herself onto the couch and reached for the remote, she turned on the tube television and flipped through the channels while Sasha got up to clean herself up.

She stopped on some news show that depicted the front lines in the other country.

"Damn, war's still going on," Ymir called to her.

She heard the sink running and Sasha's snorts as she was cleaning her face. She didn't answer back.

War. Were one or more countries are locked in battle until one submits and signs a treaty. The Marian Wars was a series of conflicts, perhaps it started a hundred years ago, in between such times there was an uneasy peace before tempers flared and the fighting resumed.

Ymir never paid much attention to history but all she knew about the most recent one was that skirmishes and raids conducted by the Scouts, humanity's elite forces, had been occurring for the past decade.

Oil was discovered off the Marian Trench over a few months ago, some dipshit decided it would be fun to announce it via radio broadcast in both English and some moon-speak, thus alerting the enemy country of what was worth stealing. Yup. Economics played a part of this.

Just a matter if time before the enemy decided to come invade, forces sent to the enemy country were being pushed back all too quickly. There was already enough of a rouse going on at the docks; over the past several months, Reiss Co. soldiers were moving in and out of the city; they were forming a barricade, some line of defense.

Better start packing.

Work was harder to come by nowadays considering that organizations were moving out and away, most likely to Trost.

Ymir leaned back. Her usual employer she went to for work had fled a year ago, smart man but an asswipe for doing so, she was out of smuggling now. She reacjed over for her pack of cigarettes to have her morning smoke, she contemplated on who to go to for work. She spoke out,"Sasha, got anyone in mind?"

Sasha returned to their man cave of a living room, towel wiping away at her face. "We can go to Jean."

"Horseface? All he does is sell shit, ain't no way he's giving up a job."

Sasha shrugged. "Sina Strip is where I'd look, but...y'know."

"Fine, I'll go check out that place. Most likely they'd want us to kidnap girls, I don't wanna do that, neither would you."

"They do have a drug ring down there," Ymir thoughtfully said, she shrugged, too cheap. Plus, she didn't want to be tangled in it for trying to start her own business, the last thing she needed was for someone to come barging in through her door while she was cooking meth and shoot up the place. "Nah."

"Uh...there's a florist shop two blocks down, they're hirin'."

Ymir snorted. "You're a comedian, you should go to Mitras. Shiganshina is the last place where a florist should live."

"Just suggestin'," she said as she went to the fridge. She dug through it until she produced two potatoes. She tossed them into the pot and filled it with water, mashed potato it is again. Ymir wished she saved a cook at this point, it was the fourth time this week she had that stuff. Her stomach gurgled, her hangover demanded food. "Or...go to the police station, see who needs t'be killed, bounty'n stuff."

"How about you do that?" Ymir asked, frowning. It was stupid to suggest that, Ymir was wanted after all.

"After I cook this, I'll swing by there."

The phone rang at the kitchen, Sasha went over to answer after she had set the pot to boil. "Uh-huh, yup...she's here. Ymir, it's Jean."

"Jean?" Ymir asked, oh what a coincidence.

Ymir got up while cracking her neck, she took the phone from Sasha as she greeted him.

"Sup?"

"Got a job for you," Jean's voice said, he sounded pretty calm. "Meet me at my workshop."

Ymir sighed out of relief. "Be there in a few."

She crushed her cigarette against the wall and sent it flying into an overflowing trashcan, then she slapped the phone back onto the receiver. She staggered over to the door, that damn hangover was starting to get to her, and found a pair of jeans hanging on the wall's rack. She slipped them on, along with a pair of military boots and a plaid shirt, most likely Sasha's but the woman didn't protest, and a set of keys.

"Will be back later," Ymir announced as Sasha occupied herself with cooking.

"Watch yer back."

She headed down the stairs, not paying exact attention as to what she was doing or where she was stepping. At every landing she would skip the last step, it was a habit she had.

It wasn't until she reached the ground floor that she felt her world go up the wrong way. She stumbled down to the floor, her hands slipping against the wall, not even helping catch her as she landed on a puddle, a cold, wet puddle.

Ymir ended up outside on the street, groaning, as numerous people ignored her.

No one wanted anything to do with her after all, she was an alarming sight enough as it is.

"Fuuuuuuck me..."

Sure, the cleaner cleaned up bodies, but at times, blood was often neglected.

She was sure this wasn't her doing, just some gang dispute from last night; there was shouting and shooting going on but she and Sasha ignored it, only watched from the window in amusement. Now it was biting back to her.

She brought a hand down onto the puddle and slowly got up, her side blotched over in red.

Ymir rolled her eyes and started heading back up the stairs, she couldn't walk around like this, the police patrolling the area would arrest her in a heartbeat.

"So much for living as gods," she grumbled, trudging herself back up the stairs, she wiped the blood off of her cheek.

She opened the door to find Sasha hadn't moved from where she last saw her, the brunette looked up and down her, she tried to hide a smile but she failed to stifle a laugh,"What'd I tell ya'bout watchin' yer back?"

"Fuck off."

Yup, just another day.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

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><p>Jean had set up shop in the Southern part of town.<p>

He was widely known as an arms dealer, at least, to the black market- he was making enough money to have the authority look the other way as he earned more than their annual salary and gave them a reason to work overtime. He had a rather nice set up at the docks, it was there that most of the big names used to hang out before turning tail to Trost.

Businesses often conducted their trades or covering up of debts here, Ymir couldn't remember the last time she so much as saw someone do honest work here.

She kicked away a can so that these kids could play with it down the street. After her spill with the blood earlier, she opted out of driving all the way, besides, it wasn't much of a far walk and gas prices were high. One of the kids bumped into her from behind, causing her to stumble forth and curse,"Little fucker!"

Out of instinct she checked for her wallet.

She had one in her back pocket.

Had one.

Had.

"Shit," she hissed as she took to running after him.

He shouted,"Run! She saw!"

"Get over here!" She roared as she sprinted after the kid. He was a street rat, nothing special, he wouldn't be missed; she reached for where her gun would normally be but she neglected it back at the apartment, only out of thought that she would be driving. Man, she was getting quite forgetful by the day.

She hurdled over a table that was selling off trinkets, knocking off a stand that displayed fake jewelry, it prompted a yell from the angry vendor but she flipped him off as she whizzed around the corner. She bolted faster, her legs keeping up in stride to get at least a foot or so away from the kid, eventually she got to him by tackling him to the ground.

Her fist went up as she pinned him town, hitting him squarely across the temple.

He yelped as her wallet fell out of his hand.

"You! Little! Runt!" She grunted with every blow.

Ymir was just about ready to make him bleed until a heavy weight lunged at her and knocked her off of her knees. She slammed the ground, seething angrily, while kicked at whoever tried to stop her from extracting her beating out of the little punk. She thrashed her limbs but an arm went around her neck, subduing her so that her windpipe was cut off.

"Cool it, Ymir, it's just a brat!" Jean shouted to her. He called out to the kid. "Leave her wallet and get out of here!"

Ymir glared at the kid as he scrambled to his feet, face blue and purple and running with tears.

"Are you so out of a job that you gotta beat kids senseless!?"

Ymir slowly relaxed, her anger dissipating, showing that she wasn't going to chase the kid anymore as she listened to his reasoning. "I'm alright, Jean, get off."

Jean released her and slowly got to his feet. She got to her knees and crawled to pick up the scattered bills and cards, she stuffed them into place and got up at the same time Jean did. He frowned at her, disapproving of her treatment, or her existence for the matter.

He had only caught her by chance when he saw her running after the kid on the other side of the street.

The people on the street, once frozen in fear, now went back to their daily lives since the action was over. Ymir followed Jean to his shop, a place tucked between two buildings in the front; in the back was the small docks that overlooked the water. Her eyes scanned the walls, boat parts and whatnot adorned them; upstairs was where Jean's real business took place.

Among the frames of a newly being built boat, his business partner, though Ymir jokingly called him fuck buddy, Marco had his hands tied with the wiring. He peeked over the white, undeveloped hull and greeted her,"Afternoon, Ymir. Heard you chase kids for a living."

"You saw?" She asked as Jean ignored their conversation and headed up a set of stairs.

"The whole dock saw," he said,"kids these days though, you didn't have to go that far."

"Better whip 'em while they're young," she reasoned, much to Marco's displeasure.

He shook his head.

Disappointment and disapproval.

Ymir snorted and went to the fridge that was kept between the shelves on the far right, she helped herself for a beer but then remembered to go up to speak terms of a job for Jean. She followed his trail and ended up in a dark room- windows were covered with blinds and heavy drapes, the only source of light came from a single light bulb that let out a weak, dim glow.

Jean was seated in the center of what he called his office. It consisted of three or five file cabinets on one end of the room, and then glass cases of an entire armory up on display. It was a spacious room though most of the deals were conducted in the middle of it all upon two velvet covered sofas and a single coffee table; above it was the pathetic bulb.

"Close the door," Jean instructed, Ymir did so.

She sat herself across from him, she leaned back as she sipped at her beer.

There had to be a cure for a hangover after all, her throat was dry anyway.

"As you know, there's a war going on," Jean started.

"Who doesn't know?"

He waved her snide remark away. "Even though the usual groups are moving out, there's a handful that is still staying. Then there's a handful that is flooding in. Military carries guns. Guns are valuable. People want guns. People like me sell guns. People that are like me want to be the only ones to sell guns."

"You want to monopolize them then," Ymir concluded. She hated it when he dumbed things down for her, in truth, that was only when she got the message; think of yourself being a kid being force-fed greens. Sadly, whenever she thought up a conclusion, that was how she reached them.

"Exactly, and I have no intentions of making friends," he said as he gestured to the folders on the table. Only four of them. She reached out to all and briefly skimmed through each, only getting glimpses of names and pictures. "Marlo Sand is partners with Hitch Dreyse. Then there's a slum lord named Batlo. Finally, some guy named Pastor Nick, that priest in the North part, works independently. As far as I know, they are currently active, I want them taken down by the end of the month."

Ymir closed the folders and slapped them back to the table. "Price?"

"You are given $3000 per head, I'll give you a down payment of $800, and access to my armory."

"I want 30% of the profit."

Jean snorted. "You're fucking kidding, right?"

"I do half your dirty work, of course I'm gonna get paid for what I contributed."

He clenched his jaw. "Here, 5%?"

Ymir shook her head.

"Do you want me to go to Berwick?"

"Make it 25%."

"No, 15% is the highest I'll go."

Ymir rolled her eyes. "May as well."

Jean got up and disappeared into the darkness, behind a door hidden by the shelves. Damn, she hated dealing with him but when he needed work done, he always went to her. She absently stared at the folders, they were like a shopping list- she let out a straggled "Hn!" in the base of her throat- she needed the money.

He then returned to her, tossing a roll of cash to her.

"Don't go spending it all at once."

Ymir quickly counted the numerous bills, less than satisfied with her deal. She pocketed the roll in her bra, still paranoid that the kid she nearly beat to death was still out there. She took the folders in hand and headed back down the stairs, beer nursed in the other.

-...-

If someone told Ymir that justice existed, she would have barked out a laugh.

She watched as a police officer arrested the boy that had been going about pick-pocketing people, it was the same little fucker who took her wallet. Today was the day she witnessed some sort of justice- kid deserved it anyway. Whatever he was caught doing was truly the end of his luck, she smirked from around the corner and continued on her merry way back home.

It was refreshing to see someone other than her be shoved into the back of a squad car. Most likely the kid would have a permanent record, be sent to juvey, and then released a year or so from now a changed kid with nothing but violence on the brain, aiding him in his spiraling descent down the wrong side of the tracks.

That was the usual case.

She went on, hands tucked in her pockets, folders neatly tucked under her armpit, no doubt any kid stupid enough to pick a fight with her would dare approach her.

Her mind drifted on to idle things...like what to fucking buy with her money.

Booze. Yeah, that usually sounded right. Then those shady stalls in the back of the liquor store that sells the best damn porn, she'd probably swing by for those after dropping off the information to Sasha and see how she would make of them.

Sasha was a good planner, she was much more organized than Ymir.

If anyone, she was the reason Ymir stayed alive from then on.

For one, she was an excellent driver and sailor. For another, she had a knack for hunting (or so she claimed that back home with her precious "Pa" they would hunt). Lastly, she was the type to think out a strategy, something Ymir never excelled in. While Ymir was the type to go into an all bet and throw dice, Sasha often aimed lower.

Ymir expected her to be a dunce, which she is when it came to making sure the fridge was stocked, but she had her strong points.

Before Ymir used to go in, guns blazing, and tear down places in a heartbeat, it was all by chance she survived up until Sasha came along.

Don't get her wrong, Ymir was smart too in her own way.

She entered her apartment, Sasha was on the couch, her hangover had ebbed away and an empty bowl sat in front of her.

She was watching some game show when Ymir returned, she looked up from an ice-pack. "Yer back! What'd he say?"

"Three targets, entertain yourself, set up shit, do your stuff," Ymir declared as she handed her the folders, Sasha looked through them. "Gotta hit list there."

Sasha read through each one, absorbing her targets' details. She was done fairly quickly. Another good thing about her was that she listened to the whispers on the streets, she had a good source of information that Ymir would only notice if it screamed in her face; she sat herself on the other couch, tossing her empty bottle to a pile on the wall. She belched and made herself comfortable.

"Well?"

"I know Balto's livin' high in the rich district, keeps t'himself in a large mansion. He's got control o'er the poor districts given he's int'real estate. Guy's got guns fer days I hear. Wouldn't hurt takin' a few when we're done," she said as she showed Ymir a picture of the guy's extravagant home. "Killin' him will cause a down in mortgages, yer killin' two birds with one stone, ne'er thought'a ya as bein' Robin Hood."

Ymir chuckled and flipped her off. "That guy will do damage when he's gone."

"I'd do him first though. If he knows the other two are dead, he ain't gonna be stupid enough to go paranoid and boost up s'curity, it'll be harder to touch him."

"So we kill the rich cat first, ok. What about the other two?"

Sasha reached over for Pastor Nick's file. "Nick's not movin' anywhere either, he's got a church to run. He won't be suspectin' a thing but...I heard that guy is in t'sum mud with Reiss Company. People sayin' he's got connections in there."

Ymir nodded slowly. "What about the other two?"

"Ah, Hitch'n Marlo, ain't so bad of a duo. Had a few drinks with 'em, all I know is that they work independently like us. Pro'lly they run an armory like Jean too so they ain't got much protection in man power."

"We hit them last. If Nick's got Reiss Co. under his cassock, I'd like to get him down as soon as possible."

Sasha read through the files a third time. She chimed,"Someone's learnin'~. Regardin' Balto, I need a week to get dirt on his men, see what his routine is. Nick's not protected, and the other guys, all I know is that they be movin' back'n fort between here and Trost, deals'n all."

"Alright then."

Damn, Sasha was a perfect secretary.

Ymir got up, it was time to get a restock on drinks.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Liquor."

"Can ya get me potatoes?"

Ymir reached out to ruffle her hair. "Haha, no."

-...-

Ymir was walking down the streets again.

This time, there was no blood to slip on.

Three blocks down, next to the flower shop, was the liquor store. Pixis ran it when he wasn't drunk off his ass, this time, it was a cold-hearted bitch named Rico. What her sore luck, she wasn't drunk enough to lower prices. Ymir hummed as she looked at the selection in the shelves, wondering which her liver hated the most.

Her eyes fell upon Absolt, her stomach growled.

We have a winner.

She went to get a case of Modelo and then went up to the front desk to where she saw the icy eyes hidden behind a smart pair of glasses. Wouldn't she look hotter without those?

Hell yeah she would.

Another name to add to the catalog.

"Fifteen," she said as the register clanged.

"Pack of Benson," Ymir added.

"Twenty-one."

Ymir handed her the bills, she counted them and stared at one that was covered in blood. Ymir sheepishly laughed. "Oh, how'd that get there?"

Rico didn't take jokes well as she slammed the small drawer shut.

"Uh- is Pixis here?"

Rico went back to reading her magazine. "He's in the back, incapacitated from nearly drinking the whole stock, he can't give you the erotica."

Ymir cursed. Damn.

She shrugged, neglected the receipt, and walked out of the store, deprived of her porn.

She grumbled,"Couldna added more to the collection-"

For the second time that day she was bumped, this time from the side. Her anger flared, thinking it was some punk that was there to steal her money again. Instead of falling over, she caught herself against a lamp post. A clatter of boxes reached her ears and she turned to glare at the poor idiot who decided to mess with her. Flowers scattered the floor, along with dirt and plastic cases for said plants.

On the ground was a young girl, blond, whose gorgeous eyes were purer than the ocean. So blue they were that they drew Ymir in unconsciously, hand placing the six pack down to reach out to her, finding herself aiding her to her feet.

Yup, it was the eyes that got her. She knelt beside her to admire them.

Compelled to speak, Ymir asked,"You ok, Blondie?"


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

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><p>Ymir never understood women's fascination of flowers.<p>

She took a whiff of one, a red one, once. It smelled like grass, just like every other fucking plant in the world. One time a guy tried to give her a bundle when she was a kid, she threw them off the wharf, proclaimed,"Fuck your flowers!", and proceeded to kick him in the junk. He never approached her again and, by her wild guess, never gave a flower to another girl.

Girls...the one still holding her hand had a few splotches of dirt on her apron. She took her hand back and brushed herself away.

She was significantly smaller than Ymir, just at chest height. BY the contours of her young features, she wasn't full-grown, she was just getting there but she wasn't just yet. Ymir watched as she bashfully looked away, saying,"I'm sorry I didn't see you."

"It's all good," Ymir said, getting back to her knee to pick up her beer.

The girl knelt down as well to clean up the mess.

"Need help?"

"I'm fine," she said, warmth seeping into her voice. She looked up and offered her a kind, sad smile. "The pots didn't crack so there's not much to be concerned about."

Ymir continued to observe her. If there was anything to add to her list of future conquests, other than Rico, she had to admit she wanted to add this girl to the top of the list. From where she was, she could see a slight cleavage from the neck of the girl's tank-top. She always had a tendency to stare, always.

Once the girl stood up, she had taken the box up with her, Ymir mirrored her.

"You work at the flower shop?" Ymir asked.

No shit.

"Yeah, part-time," she said.

Ymir had begun to follow her, the girl didn't protest. "You arrange flowers all day?"

"Every day, make some deliveries, take orders, just the usual," she said, she seemed content with her domestic job.

They entered the floral shop. Inside was a plethora of life, something rare to see in this city. Oddly enough, instead of smelling the usual stench of grass, Ymir was assaulted by the sweet scent of flowers; it was like a wake-up call to her. She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent quite well. The girl went on to place the box at a counter, she rang a bell and her boss came out from a shelf of roses.

"Christal," her boss addressed her,"did you move Balto's shipment here?"

_'Balto?'_

Ymir pretended to preoccupy herself with some roses, after all, she found a golden ticket to the bastard.

"His heathers are on the counter," this Christal announced.

"Good wor-" Her boss, a tall, lanky woman with short blond hair and an average frame revealed herself. She had dropped her sentence upon scrutinizing the box. "You dropped them, didn't you?"

Christal looked crestfallen. "I- um, I tripped, I'm sorry, Nanaba."

"Ugh, clumsy girl," Christal let out, dejected.

"It was my fault," Ymir announced, hand raised with her vodka.

Nanaba gave her a side-ways look, after all, Ymir was holding alcohol. "You don't say."

"Nothing damaged though, right?" Ymir said, feigning hope.

Nanaba ran her rand along the edge, she looked displeased but overall, there was no significant damage to her goods. "Nothing, lucky you- hold on." She approached Ymir, frowning. "I take it you're Ymir."

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not- hey, if you think I'm gonna shoot up the place, you're wrong." She placed her booze down. "Work's real low on my end. I...uh, came here to get a job."

Christal's eyes widened, brows creasing in confusion; Nanaba shared the same expression, she was ready to burst in laughter. "I've seen your resume, what makes you think I'd let you work here?"

"Is it bad to say I want to turn over a new leaf?"

That was utter bullshit.

-...-

"Lemmie get this right...ya decided t'work at the flower shop?" Sasha asked in disbelief.

This was the third time she asked. The more Ymir answered with a husk,"yes," the harder Sasha laughed.

They were back to drinking tonight. Instead of being in the confines of Ymir's apartment, they took to sitting on the rooftop to enjoy the sea stars overhanging the Maria. Ymir laid upon a beaten lawn chair next to Sasha, she too had another lawn chair. Between them were the empty bottles of Modelo, Ymir had opened the vodka and both were taking it shot for shot.

Sasha's booming cackle made Ymir roll her eyes.

"Ymir, Captain of the Dancing Titan, the vicious wolf of the high seas, known fer levelin' whole docks, killer of men, an' punisher of pimps, savior t'whores, is workin' at a flower shop! Oh god! This has got to be the best thing since...since Oprah!" Sasha wheezed out, slapping her knee. She shakily reached over to take another shot, she slammed the small glass back on the top of the radio.

Linda Ronstadt was singing her tune again, it was muffled by Sasha's loud mouth. Ymir was just about ready to toss her off the roof.

"Fuck off," Ymir slurred, she had enough of the girl poking fun at her. "I did it for Balto."

"W-what'cha gonna do? Throw petals at him!?" Sasha let out.

"No," she said, she took a hit and then poured glasses for them both. Sasha was never coordinated when drunk. She leaned back once more and held the glass in front of her, swirling it thoughtfully. "Apparently the guy's got a party in a week, called up Nanaba for some flowers and shit. I got my way in to his place."

Sasha clapped, praising her. "Yer cleverness is...is very admirable, 'mir!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. And what about you? You got work done?"

"Hm-hm, shipments to them docks are apparently periodic. Balto ain't ne'er there at them exchanges, and his goods are all kept in a warehouse near the Scouts," Sasha surmised, recalling the information she gathered. "All I know is that he got a lotta weapons."

Ymir nodded lazily. "So storming in his warehouse is useless. Besides, my route is much cleaner."

"And...them petals, ya gonna do it?"

"Nah. I managed to get this woman, Nanaba, to let me go to this party with this other worker. We'll go in, set up the place, make it look all pretty too. I'll sneak 'round, get Balto, kill him, then leave, simple."

Sasha looked up at the sky, her double vision clouding her and making the stars multiply. She stared up in wonder as she let out,"Nanaba...I know her, kinda. Doubt she'd let ya work, what'd ya do?"

"Nanaba lives in one of the homes Balto rents to her, if I kill him, woman gets full rights back to the house."

"What a modern Robin Hood."

"Tch...helping people, that wasn't my plan," Ymir huffed, she threw her head back and downed the shot. "What about those other guys?"

She reached over for the vodka and took another fill, Sasha was out for the count as she waved her hand away at the offering. "Nick not movin', told ya that already. He got Sunday services up in Saint Maria's Cathedral, 9 'tl 12 in the morn', then goes home to do whatever. Word on the street is that he been smugglin' weapons in masses, more than usual, most of the shipment is from, ya guessed it, Reiss Co."

"Why's there a priest making deals with that company?" Ymir murmured.

"Dunno, why don'tcha ask him before killin'?"

"Maybe. Alright, and the other two?"

"They make trips t'Trost e'er Monday, Thursday, n'Fridays. Rest'a the time they just sell stuff at their shop, not hostile really but if they need t'go, they go," Sasha said simply,"shame though. They were fun t'drink with."

"You only need me, Sash, only need me," Ymir assured her.

Sasha sat up, though she swayed a bit as she addressed the freckled woman. "`mir...gotta ask ya somethin'."

"Fire away," she said while drinking that shot. Oh shit...she was seeing double, not good; it meant both of them were incapacitated to move.

"Am I...the only person who ain't dead? I mean...ya ain't got a friend in the world."

"Sasha, not now," Ymir groaned.

"No, no, I mean...I'm grateful for what ya did back at Sina Strip. But...e'er since comin' t'this city, I ain't got nobody but ya," she rambled. "I tried makin' friends, like Marlo n'Hitch, but they gonna die soon. I dunno, bein' with ya, it's like Death's followin' us left n'right."

Ymir lifted her hand to scratch the back of her ear.

Sure, she rescued Sasha, sure, she grew to appreciate Sasha as a human being, sure, they had grown to be loose friends. Now that Sasha was thinking about the souls Ymir reaped or had indirectly reaped, it made her think; Sasha was, truly, her only companion in this bleak world. It wasn't that she cared about what Sasha did or who she spent her free time with, but with people being ripped away from her in life, she couldn't help but just...pity her.

Her only family, her father, sold her out for food- she had faced the pain of treachery, and the later greater ones in life.

Ymir had to pity herself too.

Hell, she only spoke with a former whore every day.

Come to think of it, she had to praise Sasha for making it this far without dying.

Damn, now Sasha got her thinking (when drunk, Ymir's mind was too lucid, she tended to connect dots that were never there).

She hated thinking when drunk- you're supposed to drink to _stop_ thinking.

"You're just drunk," Ymir slurred.

"Yeah, but...I think'a this sober too. Am I yer only friend, Ymir?"

Ymir laid back, eyes feeling heavy with those honey orbs dumbly staring up at the endless sky. She stumbled for the words,"You're the only girl I know that's breathing and not trying to pop a cap on me. I let you bunk with me too to boot...so, yeah, I guess you're my only friend."

"Would ya care if I die?"

"Sasha, just stop it, you're being stupid," Ymir grumbled, she didn't want to think of that. Nope. "You need me as much as I need you."

"...I'm happy then," Sasha chimed, that flat tone she had dissipated. "I'm glad yer m'friend."

"That's probably the first time I heard that from another human being."

"Yer a hard person t'crack, 'mir. Yer kinda...well, a bitch, but I know inside that fucked up head'a yers, yer a good person," Sasha sighed, she giggled to herself and laid back down.

Ymir felt the heat rise in her face, she never saw herself as good. She can't even recount any instance in her life that she was ever a good person. Perhaps the only time she was ever a saint was when she undid the chains that held Sasha down. She shrugged it away, it was in the past now.

Sasha's voice ran out. "Do ya know how t'read stars?"

Ymir opened her eyes a bit wider, her vision was tunneling from the vodka. If she took just...

One. More. Shot.

Sasha's words would drown away.

But she decided against it.

Ymir checked every star up there, her double vision wasn't helping much. She made out a row of three stars, she lifted a hand to point at them. "I see Orion...then I think that one's Ursa Major. Fuck, it's hard to see."

They fell quiet, the subject of stars was a brief thing, nothing to them. Ymir folded her hands over her stomach, her breathing heavy. Her craving for a cigarette suddenly hit her, so she just had to sate her craving. She dragged her hand down to her pants and pulled a pack out, she took one and offered another to Sasha, who was still awake, the woman took it.

Ymir sat up to properly light it, then handed the lighter to Sasha before slamming her body back onto the lawn chair.

"Y'know...I hate this place," Ymir admitted out of random.

Sasha let out a questionable grunt.

Ymir went on. "I just do. Every corner is shit, every person is shit, you and I, we're both shit."

"Amen," Sasha murmured, she spread her arms out, palms open, stretching herself,"welcome to Shiganshina, the shit-hole of this damned country..."

Another moment of silence.

"`mir?"

"What?"

"Just...another question."

"Hm? Don't drag the bullshit we just covered."

"Why'd ya really save me?"

Ymir took a long harsh drag, just enough to feel the burn in her throat. She had to tell her the truth, just had to, just saying it to her, she would understand.

Sasha was the only one who would understand.

"The moment I saw you, I saw myself."

Nothing more was said between them.

Sasha understood her best out of everyone in this fucked up world.

Ymir was glad she had Sasha.


End file.
